Too Many Potatoes
by CoffeeRanger
Summary: It is Hannukah time in the Avengers Tower...and Steve has decided to make latkes.


A/n: _This is what happens when your siblings ask you when Hannukah is this year. Had this written months ago and was waiting for Hannukah to roll around before I posted it. And then Hannukah came, but we've been too busy to even really light candles. So, I'm happy that I at least got it published in December. :P Fair warning, this is just me having fun with these characters and the idea that they would need a LOT of staples to make this traditional meal. I have 10 people in my immediate family, and we use 10 pounds of potatoes and 2-3 cabbage heads for our Hannukah meal. It is not to be taken too seriously._

 _Note: Becomes slightly AU towards the end in that Civil War never happened because Steve got his head screwed on the right way and actually talked to Tony instead of hiding everything. So, the team stayed together as one big happy family instead of being scattered to the four winds._

 _Hope y'all enjoy!_

 _Disclaimer: Don't own. Wish I did. Would have done a lot of things differently._

~~~~ Line Break ~~~~

"Anyone want to – or for that matter, _can_ anyone – explain why our counters currently look like someone bought up an entire grocery store full of potatoes and cabbage?" Clint asked as he walked into the training room.

The rest of the Avengers glanced up from their positions around the room. All of them wore various looks of befuddlement. Well, all of them except for their illustrious captain. Steve was strangely absent, even though he was usually the first to arrive for their bi-weekly training sessions.

"What are you talking about, Clint?" Bruce asked.

"The kitchen counters." Clint responded, pointing behind him as if that clarified everything. "They're literally covered in potatoes, cabbage, and grocery bags. Heavy emphasis on the potatoes and cabbage; it seriously looks like someone cleared an entire store of their stock. Any of you guys go shopping?"

"As if any of us have had _time_ to go shopping, Clint. I swear, if this is another one of your jokes…" Natasha threatened.

Clint held up his hands, "It's not; I promise. There's also like 12 dozen eggs sitting on the counter as well. I thought we all agreed the limit would be 6. This your thing, Stark?"

"Can't claim the credit this time." Tony shook his head. "Though, now that you bring it up, there are a number of things I could use eggs and potatoes for…"

"Don't you even dare, Tony." Bruce glowered at him. "I'm _still_ finding mango and watermelon bits in random areas of the lab. Clint, don't even think about asking." This time the glare was levelled at the resident archer. "Neither Tony nor I am saying anything, and Jarvis has deleted all footage of the… event."

Clint visibly deflated, "Fine. Be no fun. If we can't blame the grocery store on Stark, though, how'd it all get there?"

"If I may be of some assistance, Master Barton?" A voice interjected from above them. "I believe the culprit you are looking for is Captain Rogers."

"Steve?" Clint shared a confused look with Tony.

"Where is he, Jarvis?" Natasha asked.

"The Captain is currently carrying the last of the groceries into the kitchen. Would you like me to contact him?"

Nah, thanks, J." Tony answered. "Spangles is late for training anyway. We'll just go up and see him." He pulled himself to his feet and stepped towards Clint. Clapping him on the shoulder, he gestured towards the door, "You coming?"

"Heck yeah! I need to know what on earth Steve needs _that_ many potatoes for."

They headed for the elevator together, Bruce and Natasha trailing behind. They arrived in the kitchen to the sight of Steve setting an armload of grocery bags onto the floor next to the counters. Clint whistled when he saw just how much had been added to the pile since he had left.

At the sound, Steve turned to face them. He bore a sheepish expression. "Sorry. I know I'm late. I thought I would have enough time for the run, but I got held up. The store was busier than I expected. You'd think most people would be at work at 1 in the afternoon on a weekday." He gestured to the bags and parcels scattered on the flat surfaces of the kitchen. "Just let me put the cold stuff away, and I'll be ready to go."

Tony shook his head, "What did you _do_ , Rogers, buy the whole store? How'd you even get _home_ with all this?"

"I took a taxi." Steve shrugged. "And it's not that much. We needed groceries; I had the time to get them. I know _you_ might enjoy eating take-out every night for a week, but _some_ of us enjoy home-cooked meals."

"He's got a point, Tony." Bruce said. "We have been pretty low for a while."

Tony rolled his eyes, "Regardless, how many times do I have to explain the magic of internet to you two? We can have it, whatever _it_ is – even groceries – delivered here without the hassle of going to the store. We're superheroes – never minding that one of us is a billionaire. We shouldn't have to do something so petty as _grocery shopping_. And I didn't hear any complaints about the food we've been eating each time it was delivered, thank you very much."

"It's kinda hard to complain about anything when you haven't eaten for 36 hours." Clint pointed out from where he was shifting through one of the bags. "Doesn't mean we don't wish for something else, though."

"Fine!" Tony threw his hands into the air. "Just see if I order you ingrates anything next time."

Natasha smirked, "We love you too, Tony."

Steve shook his head, "All right, you lot. Seriously. It is training time. Go ahead and start without me. I'll be down in just a few."

"I think we can hold off a bit in order to help you put stuff away, Steve." Bruce said, already beginning to sort the bags into "cold" and "not cold" piles.

"Yeah." Clint agreed. "You can't honestly expect us to leave without seeing what goodies you brought home.

Tony snorted, "This is Steve we're talking about. He doesn't bring home _goodies_ ; he brings home health food." He ducked away from the bags of spices Clint chucked at his head, though he did catch them and put them away in the correct cupboard.

"Thanks, guys." Steve smiled.

"Steve, we're family." Nat admonished. "No thanks necessary. Especially when you bring home Brussels sprouts and chocolate!" Her eyes lit up as she pulled out a bag of the frozen greens and a jar of fudge.

"I still can't believe you eat that stuff." Tony shuddered.

"Don't diss it till you've tried it, Nightlight." Clint stated. "Sure, it sounds weird, but it really tastes good. And you eat weirder stuff. Grapes should _not_ be eaten with sour cream dip."

"Point." Tony nodded. "But it's like… an affront to chocolate to eat it with vegetables."

"Steve," Bruce called. "I thought we all agreed the egg limit would be 6 dozen eggs. Clint was right. There are 12 dozen here. Unless you've got space in your fridge, we're not going to have enough room for all this stuff."

"Oh," Steve looked up from where he was lining up bags of potatoes, onions, garlic, and flour on the counter. "Yeah, 6 is the limit. But I'm going to need a lot of eggs in the next few days and didn't think any of us will feel like stopping to get anymore in the next 2 days."

"That's what the internet is for!" Tony exclaimed. "It's been over a year, Sleeping Beauty. Time to join the 21st century."

"Not the point, Tony." Bruce reminded him. "I think we're still going to have to put some of this elsewhere." He muttered, looking at all the bags of cold and frozen items.

"Speaking of putting things elsewhere." Clint pointed to the potato bags on the counter. "Steve, why on _earth_ do we have like 50 pounds of potatoes covering the counters?"

"It's literally only half that, Clint." Steve replied. "And I need them for a meal."

"What are you making that requires almost 25 _pounds_ of potatoes? We don't eat that much; at least not with Thor away." Tony exclaimed.

"Latkes." Steve said. His face visibly brightened at the word – a certain light entering his eyes that they had only seen once, when Coulson had taken him to eat lunch at a diner that had been around since the 20s. Apparently, it had been a favorite of his and Bucky's.

"What are latkes?" Bruce asked.

Steve frowned, "They're like a shredded potato… pancake, I guess would be the best way to describe them."

"So… a hash brown?" Clint questioned.

"No. Not like a hash brown at all." Steve said. "They are very different. Hash browns are just shredded potatoes. Latkes are potatoes, onions, garlic, eggs, and a little bit of flour. Much better than simply _hash browns_. They're a traditional meal for Hanukah." He looked over at Tony. "Is that all right? It can get messy to make. I mean, it's your kitchen. I – it's just been a while, and Hanukah starts next week, and I thought it'd be nice –"

"Whoa," Tony waved a hand as if shooing away a fly, "Cool your jets, Capsicle. I've already told you my house is your house. And honestly with how much you all have pretty much exploded your presence around the Tower – not to mention the big _A_ on the side – it's pretty much _our_ house at this point. Do whatever you want to do. I don't care. I highly doubt _you_ will do anything this place hasn't already seen. That's more Birdbrain's department."

Clint spluttered, but couldn't think of a comeback before Tony continued talking, "Plus, I'm kinda excited about this 'latke' business. But also skeptical. Potatoes have never really been my thing."

"When has food _ever_ been your thing, Tony?" Nat rolled her eyes, remembering the countless times they would almost have to physically drag Tony from his workshop so that the man would eat.

"True." Tony tapped the side of his nose. "But potatoes have always been in their own special category – along with lutefisk. Honestly, fish is fine, but whoever decided lye was a good way to prepare it needs to have their head examined."

Steve smiled, "Thanks, Tony. I think you'll like latkes. They're deep fried."

"I am literally not hearing anything wrong with these things the more you describe them." Clint piped up. Though he was still busy putting more dried goods away, he eyed the ingredients on the counter hungrily.

"Are the 7 heads of cabbage for the latkes as well?" Bruce asked, stuffing the last of the cold goods (minus the eggs headed for Steve's fridge) in the fridge.

"No, but they go with the latkes. My ma would make a fried cabbage and sausage dish special for Hanukah. It was the one time a year we got sausage. We'd put aside a little each month so that we'd make sure we'd have enough to get them. It was one of the best dishes she ever made." Steve's eyes half-way glazed over as his memories came to the foreground of his mind. "I looked forward to it every year."

"Okay, you need to stop." Clint moaned. "I'm getting hungry just thinking about it. When are you making this meal?"

Steve rubbed the back of his neck once more, "Well, if you're wanting to have it quickly, probably the day after tomorrow if nothing comes up. It'll take me a while to get the potatoes shredded and then longer to cook the latkes. And then there's the cabbage…" He trailed off for a minute, gaze flitting between the ingredients he could see.

"What do you mean 'it'll take me a while to shred'?" Tony asked. Then his eyes widened in fake horror. "Wait, you weren't _seriously_ going to shred 25 pounds of potatoes by _hand_ , were you?"

Steve frowned, "How else are you supposed to shred potatoes?"

"How else are you – Steve, be thankful we found out what you were doing. Wait here. We don't have it in this kitchen." Tony pointed to Bruce and Clint, "Make sure he doesn't leave. And for Pete's sake, keep him away from the grater!" He stalked off muttering under his breath about super soldiers, lack of 21st century knowledge, and affronts to the world of cooking.

Steve turned to the other occupants of the room, "What is he talking about?"

"Beats me." Clint shrugged. He hopped onto the counter, grabbed an apple, and took a big bite out of it.

"I think we'll find out shortly." Bruce proffered.

Nat rolled her eyes, "You two are hopeless. Steve, I can understand, and possibly you, Bruce. But, Clint, seriously. We spent three months undercover as chefs. You should know what a food processor is and what it is for."

"A food what?" Steve asked.

"Processor." Nat repeated. "It's a machine that cuts food into little chunks, or shred them. Actually, it can do a lot of things depending on what you want done. The important thing here is it's going to save you a lot of work."

The elevator dinged just then, and Tony raced back in carrying a large contraption in his arms. He set it down on the counter and gestured to it as if it was the greatest thing ever created.

"Thankfully, I just used this a few weeks ago. Made it easy to find everything. There you go, Steve. Yet another labor-saving device brought to you by the 21st century."

"Thanks, Tony." Steve went over to the machine and looked it over. "How does it work?"

"It's ridiculously easy. Seriously, even Pepper can use it, and she's hopeless in the kitchen."

"Pepper can't cook?!" Clint exclaimed.

Tony shook his head, "Not to save her life. At least – not decently." He quirked his head, "You honestly thought she could?"

"Well, yeah. Especially with your… personal care habits. The ability to cook implies the ability to look after oneself."

"Well, if that's the case, Clint," Nat said, grinning sweetly at her partner, "4 years ago you did not have the ability to take care of yourself. Sandwiches and ramen noodles do not count as sustenance."

Clint waved her words away, "That's beside the point. I know how to cook now."

"But have forgotten what a food processor is." Nat's grin turned into a wide smile.

"Anyway…" Clint drawled while rolling his eyes, "When did you learn to cook, Tony?"

"I've known how since I was little. I helped our cook while I was growing up. I'm honestly a little hurt that you guys didn't know I could cook. What about my nights to cook dinner?"

"I always thought you ordered something in." Steve admitted to which Clint nodded his agreement.

Tony turned to Bruce, "You knew about this and didn't say anything?"

Bruce shrugged, "I was seeing how long it would take them to find out. And did you have to say anything now? Just two more weeks, and I would have won." With an exaggerated groan, he pulled out his wallet and handed a $20 bill to Nat.

"Thank you!" She said, folding it and slipping it into her pocket.

Tony rolled his eyes, "You all are incorrigible. Anyway, Steve, as I was saying, I've already put the blade in that you need. So, all you do is get you chunk of potato – from the looks of those potatoes you're going to need to cut them at least in half – and put the chunks in here."

He pointed to an opening at the top of the machine. "Just turn it on and wait for the machine to shred it all up. And then you keep doing that until the bin is full. To empty it, you pull here –" he pointed to a handhold on the bin. "Which reminds me, did you get a mixing bowl big enough? I don't think any of ours are going to work"

Steve frowned, "I forgot that bit. I'll have to go back to the store tomorrow."

"You could just use all of ours." Bruce pointed out.

"That would work." Steve agreed. "Would make quite a mess though, and I need some for the cabbage… and then—"

"No! We're not doing this." Tony broke in. "J—"

"I have already taken the liberty of ordering three of the largest mixing bowls I could find." Jarvis interrupted. "They will arrive tomorrow morning."

"Thanks, J! That everything you need, Stars 'n Stripes?"

"Yes, Tony." Steve grinned, "Unless, of course, you want to impress us all by showing us your cooking skills by helping prepare everything?"

"No can do." Tony said shrugging. "Unfortunately, I have already used up my 'help-quota' for the week. I _will,_ however, be showing up to help eat everything, of course."

"Of course." Steve shook his head. "All right, then. Well, since we're all done, let's get to training."

"And tomorrow you will be teaching us how to make latkes." Nat said as she led the way to the elevator. "Apparently, we need to reacquaint Clint with the food processor, and this is the perfect opportunity to do so."

"And tomorrow I will teach you guys how to make latkes." Steve promised with a small laugh. "And Clint will help me figure out that processor."

It ended up being a huge mess. Cutting cabbage and making latkes is a naturally messy business. However, it was taken to a whole new level when Clint forgot to keep the speed of the mixer down and splattered eggs _everywhere_. (Nat was especially not happy at the amount that got into her hair.) But even with the few mishaps, they had a good time.

Even Tony joined in – without Pepper needing to force him, or Jarvis having to lock him out of the lab. He did stick by his words and didn't help with the latkes. However, even his talents were put to use when he spent quite a while making a few Jell-O/cheesecake pies for after dinner.

Though everyone had been surprised at the amount of potatoes Steve had bought, they were glad of it after they tasted the fruits of their labor. Between the six of them, and their additional guests (Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey were a given, but Steve also insisted on Maria and Fury being invited… and Coulson), there were more ferocious appetites than even Clint counted on. They ended up having leftovers, but it wasn't heaping amounts – just enough to have some as a complement for another meal.

Needless to say, no one batted an eye when a few years later, Steve brought home almost 40 pounds of potatoes. They had, after all, picked up a few more members – one of them being another semi-super-soldier with a missing arm and the metabolism of a horse – and Thor had returned prior to that. A few years after _that_ , Tony drew the line and ordered their potato/cabbage order online. Trying to haul home the 50 something pounds of potatoes and 20 heads of cabbage needed to feed the team, on top of everything else needed for weekly groceries, was just Too. Much.

For once, Steve agreed with him.


End file.
